Chapter 393: The Beach Had Been Lying Down

The peninsula had apparently left without updating its address, which was the first navigation problem I had encountered that sounded more irresponsible than we were.

Lukas compared the three marker readings while I rested beside the crawler. They had moved together, keeping the same distances between them, and the old route notes warned freight drivers not to trust the shoreline after a deep tide.

That wasn’t enough to explain it, but it was enough to make the Walking Coast look more interesting than another week of arguing with rental equipment.

We stayed near Glasswake for treatment and repairs before taking the coastal road. I paid another two hundred sixty credits for follow-up care and fresh supplies, while Lukas had the crawler’s grit seals checked and settled the separate workshop bill.

The medic cleared gentle movement, not heroic flight. I followed that advice with the irritated discipline of somebody who wanted his wings to remain attached long enough to complain about them properly.

By the time the road reached the sea, roughly six weeks had passed since we left Ami. We had traveled farther than the map made obvious, spent days waiting on weather and repairs, and somehow remained only halfway through the trip we had planned.

The coastal relay station stood above the high-water line beside a row of tide boards. Survey poles marked the safe ground around it, while a fenced path led toward the place our older map called a peninsula.

A local attendant warned us to stay behind the red posts when the tide turned. He didn’t know why the shore shifted, and his employer paid him to keep tourists alive rather than win arguments about ancient creatures.

I liked a man who understood the limits of his job.

Old Mate opened a one-time survey objective while we compared the tide board with the copied readings.

[System: Fifteen thousand EXP and forty IP for three reliable readings from safe ground, identifying what moved the markers and getting back before the access route flooded. No repeat payments for staring at the same beach, you expensive garden hose.]

I had intended to stare disrespectfully, which usually qualified as additional effort.

We borrowed the station’s sighting stand for a small hire fee and checked it against the fixed tower marker before taking it along the public path. Lukas carried the equipment while I kept to the broad, dry surface with my wing folded.

The first reading came from a marked shelter overlooking the bay. All three moving poles stood beyond it on a dark ridge that should have joined the shore, but water now showed through a narrow channel at its base.

We logged the positions and time rather than trusting a dramatic impression. The second safe viewpoint gave us a clear angle along the ridge, where strips of weed hung from plates of stone that didn’t line up like ordinary rock.

The plates overlapped. Between them, something softer flexed beneath the water.

Lukas lowered the sighting tube and asked whether I had noticed the same deeply unreasonable thing. I told him I had, then checked the return path before allowing myself a second look.

[System: Good news, mate, the map wasn’t wrong about the shape. Bad news, it may have mistaken a reclining bastard for real estate.]

At the third marked post, we could see beneath the outer ridge as the water fell away. A huge joint moved under the surface, followed by the slow lift of an armored limb wider than the relay building.

The three survey poles had been driven into the exposed back of a creature so large that weeds, broken walls and an entire ruined street had collected above its shell.

Nobody had grafted it into that shape. It moved with the slow, coordinated weight of a natural animal, and my first thought wasn’t Bio-Recall or fighting it.

It was that somebody had once sold property on its back and probably described the neighborhood as up-and-coming.

Lukas photographed the third reading and the moving limb, then packed the stand while I checked the tide alarm. Water was already running into the lower channel beside the path, and the safe return window was shrinking.

We went back without crossing the red posts or stepping onto the creature. Curiosity could wait until it stopped charging admission in missing travelers.

The attendant checked our recorded positions against the station log and sounded the local warning when we showed him the photographs. He locked the path gate after we crossed, leaving us on the stable rise as water covered the lowest section behind it.

Old Mate paid only after we were clear. My EXP reached two hundred thousand out of two hundred thousand, and my IP rose to one thousand fifteen.

[System: Threshold reached, mate. You investigated the beach without licking it, fighting it or trying to rent it out, so apparently personal growth remained possible under strict supervision.]

I hadn’t ruled out the rental idea, but I was willing to inspect the foundation first.

I called home from the station relay before the moving ridge blocked its coastal link. Lyra listened to the update and asked whether I had rested the wing. Cherry wanted the photograph because she refused to believe a beach could be worse at staying put than me. Bridget asked whether the old buildings on its back had been checked for people.

That last question made me look out over the bay again.

I told them we were safe on fixed ground and promised another call after the next safe stop. The evolution notice opened as the signal weakened, offering a choice I hadn’t made yet, with all two hundred thousand earned EXP still waiting.

Across the water, the creature lifted more of its back from the sea. A ruined street rose between weeds and broken walls, carrying dark windows into the fading light.

Lukas touched my side and pointed before I could examine the new menu. Fresh lamps were switching on inside the supposedly abandoned buildings, one after another, and somebody on the highest balcony had started waving us closer.